


Your Arms Full, and Your Hair Wet, I Could Not Speak

by allmilhouse



Category: Winter Kept Us Warm (1965)
Genre: First Time, Hand Jobs, Intimacy, Kissing, M/M, Porn with Feelings, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 13:53:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19210771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmilhouse/pseuds/allmilhouse
Summary: It started as a reoccurring dream he kept having over Christmas break. It was the night of the Dean’s party, they were out in the snow. Peter shivered, and when Doug turned to embrace him, Peter didn’t shrug away, instead holding him tighter.





	Your Arms Full, and Your Hair Wet, I Could Not Speak

**Author's Note:**

> Two things about this movie: not enough people have seen it (it’s on YouTube!!), and it’s so, so tender I want to cry just thinking about it. Title from T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land

It started as a reoccurring dream he kept having over Christmas break. It was the night of the Dean’s party, they were out in the snow. Peter shivered, and when Doug turned to embrace him, Peter didn’t shrug away, instead holding him tighter. 

He could feel Peter’s heart racing under the thin, wet shirt. His skin felt cold, and Doug tried to give the younger student as much body heat as he could. 

“Hey, let’s get you inside, eh? This cold can’t be helping your hangover any.” Doug pulled back, just enough so he could wrap one arm securely around Peter’s shoulders, holding him steady. They made their way back to the dorm slowly, in deference to the slippery sidewalks. Moments ago they had felt lighter than air frolicking in the early morning snow, but something had changed. They were suddenly two different men walking across the U of T campus- two men who understood each other better, two men sharing a secret. 

Thankfully Peter’s room was on the first floor, and they made their way inside a little awkwardly, both a little lost now once they broke contact. Doug didn’t want to let go, and Peter didn’t seem to want to let him go. 

The door shut, a little harsher than they expected, and Peter jumped. 

“Sorry, I’m still a little antsy. Must be the hangover,” he explained, looking a little worse for wear. “Hope I don’t get sick again.”

Doug smiled. “Take off those wet clothes or you’ll get sick for sure. Here, I’ll get you some blankets.” He knew where the blankets were- the lovingly homemade ones Peter’s mom had spent half the semester sending to him. Right in front of the small closet, impossible to miss. But Doug gallantly padded out his search, giving Peter some privacy to change in his small bedroom. 

He heard Peter sit back down on the bed, and offered him the pile of blankets. “These Finnish miracles will get you warmed up in no time.”

Peter paused as he reached for them, looking up at Doug, his light blue eyes full of worry. “Would you stay with me? Just for a little while?”

Doug has a hard time resisting Peter on a good day, let alone late at night, on a rough day, with Peter looking so uncertain. “Of course,” he found himself saying. “Do you mind if I borrow some dry clothes though? My slacks are still soaked.”

Peter nodded, smiling now. “Yeah, uh, top drawer.” He pointed to his dresser before turning his back to lay out the blankets. 

Shedding his shirt and tie, Doug stripped as quickly as he could, before finding a serviceable pair of pyjama pants. Too small for his slightly larger frame, they clung to his waist. He spared a quick glance at Peter bending over the bed, spreading out one of the blankets. His shoulders looked so thin, and Doug decided not to bother trying to squeeze into the matching pyjama shirt. Finishing up hanging his wet clothes on the back of the desk chair, Doug returned to Peter, who was just climbing into his bed. 

The bed was too small. But Peter curled up on his side, and Doug slotted in right behind him. He placed his right hand on Peter’s upper arm, to keep himself balanced, and burrowed in nice and snug under the blankets. It was a sensation somehow both disarmingly familiar and completely exotic, and his fingers twitched absently for a cigarette. Peter reached for his hand, pulling it close to his chest, and covering it with his own, holding it in place. He felt the steady rise and fall of Peter’s heartbeat, faster than he would have expected. 

In the quiet room, the only sound was their breaths, slightly elevated. And then, the briefest shuffle of fabric, as Peter pulled their hands lower. Doug felt a colder patch on Peter’s stomach- probably from a direct hit from a snowball. He rubbed his hand gently, just a small circle, with only enough friction to warm it up. 

Pressed up against Peter’s back, Doug knew Peter would be able to feel his growing erection. He was wracking his brain, trying to find a normal excuse when Peter moved their hands even lower, to the waistband of his sweats. Peter seemed to stall, and Doug sensed his hesitance. “We don’t have to do anything,” he said softly. 

A moment passed before the even softer reply. “I want to. With you.”

Exercising more self control than he thought possible, Doug waited another moment. “Are you sure?” Peter was still hungover, or maybe even the cold had affected his mind. Dozens of scenarios unfolded in Doug’s mind, all of them involving Peter being sick or regretful or worse. 

To his immense relief, Peter nodded. “Yes, I want you to touch me.” It was louder than before, more confident, and this time Doug didn’t need telling twice. 

He reached his hand down, under the waistband, to Peter’s already hard dick. His nimble fingers traced a light path up and down, not teasing exactly, but not nearly firm enough either. The head was dripping wet after only a few strokes, and Doug was momentarily surprised. “Is this your first time?”

Peter nodded again, and Doug leaned in to kiss his neck. “I want to make it good for you, ok?” he whispered in Peter’s ear. Slicking up his hand, he took a stronger hold, and started stroking, a steady rhythmic pace. Peter tensed up, his hand closing on Doug’s wrist. Doug let up immediately. “Too much?”

“No, keep going. Please. I’m so close.”

The desperation in his voice stirred something deep in Doug’s chest, and he resumed his pace, jerking harder and faster until Peter gasped, a beautiful, ragged sound. He curled even further, half on his stomach, and Doug followed him, fist still pumping, as Peter finally came into the mattress. 

Not wanting to overwhelm the poor guy, Doug rolled back. He kept one arm hanging loosely around Peter, a reassuring sign he wasn’t going anywhere, but just giving him breathing space. Patiently waiting but still achingly hard, he again had the burning desire for a cigarette. But he couldn’t get out of bed now, not before Peter recomposed himself. 

It took another minute, but Peter rolled back over, finally facing him. His face was bright red, with all of his freckles disappearing beneath the blush that spread all the way down his neck and chest. He ducked his head shyly, not meeting Doug’s concerned gaze. 

Doug tugged at his chin, forcing Peter to look at him, before sliding his hand up Peter’s face, his thumb gently stroking his cheek. “Hey now,” he said, offering a small smile. “It wasn’t all that bad, right?”

Peter laughed despite himself, and Doug couldn’t help but pull him in for a kiss. It took a moment for Peter to respond, but when he kissed back, Doug could feel it spreading warmth and light across his body. His lips were dry and the kiss was chaste, but it satisfied the growing need that had been building in Doug’s chest since that first day months ago, back in the library quoting T.S. Eliot. 

When they broke apart, Doug brushed the few strands of wayward hair off of Peter’s face before resting their foreheads together. “You’re really something special,” he said, causing Peter to pull back shyly. 

“Stop teasing me,” he said lightly. 

“I’m serious,” he insisted. “Honest to god Peter, I think you’re wonderful.”

Emboldened by his praise, Peter surged forward, kissing him again. Now Doug was the one struggling to keep up as he felt Peter’s hand outline his almost-forgotten erection through his borrowed pyjama pants. _Peter wore these pants_ he finally realised, before the hand moved and he had more important things on his mind. He pulled back from the kiss carefully, and looked at Peter seriously. “You don’t have to, you know. Just because I got you off, you don’t have to do this.”

“But I want to,” Peter said plainly. “Don’t you want me to?”

Doug swallowed. “More than anything.”

Beaming in reply, Peter leaned in to kiss him again. He tugged down Doug’s pyjama pants with one hand, and closed his long, thin fingers around Doug’s dick. His strokes were inexperienced, his hand unfamiliar and lacking confidence, but Doug melted into the touch. He felt too hot under all the blankets, and for a brief moment wished they were back in the quad, slipping and sliding and embracing in the snow. 

He wrapped his arm back around Peter’s thin shoulders, tugging their bodies closer on the small bed. Peter followed his lead, and pressed forward, leaning on top of him, his weight landing comfortably on Doug’s chest, his legs forcing Doug’s thighs to spread wider. The intimacy got to him more than anything else, and after only a few more too-careful strokes, Doug was spilling all over Peter’s fist. 

Peter shifted, trying to pull back, but Doug kept his arm tight around Peter’s back. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Peter hummed his reply, tucking his head snugly against Doug’s shoulder. Doug kissed his forehead, and they dozed off together, sleepy and satisfied and serene.


End file.
